Red Butler
by Lady of Kalam
Summary: A little more than ten years after his brief career as Jack the Ripper, Grell Sutcliff still hasn't re-adjusted to the normal life of a Shinigami. That all changes when he meets a young woman named Philomena Stanhope, who may be able to bring a little more excitement into his world with her burning desire for revenge. GrellxOC
1. Prologue

**A/N Guess who's back with another Black Butler fic! That's right, it's Scotland'sPond! Anyway, the prologue is a sort of teaser of what's to come. You see, this was originally going to be a 1x1 roleplay on ChickenSmoothie, but it never took off and I didn't want to waste the plot! Reviews are appreciated and I'll have the first chapter ready, ASAP! By the way, I don't own Grell-san (I wish, lol) but I do own Philomena, who shall be center stage in the next chapter!**

**Kinda A/N: Lady of Kalam here, just publishing one of my bestest friend ever stories, this is the second Blabk (nice)BUTTler fic she has imperio-ed me into publishing**

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Prologue:  
Reaping souls had its ups and downs but Grell Sutcliff was bored to death. Ever since the unfortunate incident of his past (that is, his dealings with Madam Red), William T. Spears had only given him the dullest, most mundane assignments.

Sighing, the redhaired Shinigami leaned against the steeple of one of London's many churches and consulted the List, his yellow-green eyes scanning the page for anything, ANYTHING, even remotely interesting, but nothing appealed to him in the slightest.

"Oh, Will..." he sighed to himself, pouting as he studied the List of horribly undramatic deaths. "Won't you ever get over..." His voice trailed off as a new entry appeared in the hefty book he held. His bold eyes, framed by long (albeit, fake) eyelashes, widened and a huge grin crossed his face as he quickly read the latest addition to the To-Die List. Yes, oh, yes~ Something to finally break the boring streak that he had been plagued with! Taking off towards the East End, Grell's thoughts were focused on the event to come, the event that made him giddy with anticipation:

A murder, and a most curious one, indeed.


	2. Butler Death's New Mistress

**A/N So, here it is! The first chapter of my new fic, Red Butler or Akashitsuji. Reviews are appreciated! Anyway, I don't own Kuroshitsuji. I only own Philomena. New update to follow soon, DEATH~ /shot**

Chapter 1: Butler Death's New Mistress

My delicate fingers clenched tightly around the handle of the long dagger; today was the day that SHE had had HIM killed, and I was no longer going to let her sin or those who had assisted her go unpunished. Ten long years I had been planning my revenge on her and her acomplices, ever since she had abandoned me at the Godforsaken orphanage with a pseudonym and a burning hatred for her.

I was seventeen now, and it was time for me to take action. I had waited far too long to back down now. Breathing softly, I forced myself to move silently, stepping lightly so the worn heels of my brown boots made no noise against the creaky, wooden floor. My long dark blue dress, half covered by a dingy, gray-white apron, rustled slightly as I approached Matron's office, strands of my reddish-blonde hair falling out of my messy bun and sticking to my pale, heart-shaped face.

If I wanted to get to her, I'd have to silence Matron, Evangeline Chapel. Some of us who had been around long enough referred to her as the vampire, as she hid in her room during the day but prowled the corridors at night after she was finished drinking herself into oblivion. Her door was open a crack, enough for me to catch a strong whiff of the alcohol fumes that were always present when one was near Matron's office. I sighed, not surprised because she was indeed quite the heavy drinker, seemingly having a very high tolerance for it.

I pushed the door open further, carefully, and slid inside, my movements shadow-like. Matron was slumped on her desk, but she stirred at the slight creak her door made. I held the knife behind my back and walked closer, getting her attention.

"Blair Silverstone," she slurred as she turned and looked me up and down with her foggy, hazel eyes. I stood my ground as she rose, towering over me and glaring in a threatening manner. "What th' 'ell d'ye think yer doin' out o' bed at this 'our, ye stupid girl?" Matron questioned as she raised an arm, probably to slap me. She didn't get the chance; I pushed the older woman down, straddling her waist and holding the dagger above my head, ready to bring it down into her body. She gasped and I smirked.

"That's not my name," I informed her smoothly, pressing my full weight on her abdomen. I was only a mighty ninety-seven pounds, standing five feet tall at the most, but she was old and drunk and didn't have the strength to displace me. "That's the name my bitch of a mother gave me when she abandoned me here, after she had my beloved father murdered. My name...is Philomena Stanhope." And with that, I plunged the blade into her busty chest. Quickly, I retracted the knife and struck again and again, to be sure she was dead.

Breathing heavily, I stood and flinched slightly when I saw all the blood; it was on Matron, on the floor, even splattered in crimson splotches on my apron and making black spots on the darker fabric of my dress.

"I had to do it," I explained, kicking some of her empty sherry bottles on my way to the door. "I can't wait until they send me to the workhouse or an asylum when I turn eighteen. I'll never be able to get to her then." My hand was on the knob by that point, ready to close the door behind me, when I heard the steady sound of applause.

Startled, I whipped around to see the strangest man standing at the edge of the room, near the open window. He had long, bright red hair, spectacles, and a scarlet coat drapped on his arms that looked like something a woman might wear. I tightened my grip on my dagger as he approached me with a smile on his face.

"My dear, you put on quite the show just now," he mused in an animated, high-pitched voice. I jerked away as he reached a hand out to stroke my cheek.

"Wh-who are you?" I managed to choke out, terrified that someone had seen me kill Matron and quite wary of this odd man. I held back a whimper as his grin grew, revealing sharp, shark-like teeth. Oh, God. He was a demon, wasn't he? Come to take me to Hell for what I'd done! "Why are you here?"

"I, my darling, am Grell Sutcliff, Shinigami," he stated, giving me a wink that made me notice that his eyes were a peculiar yellow-green. "I only came to collect that old cow's soul but I never expected to come across such an enchanting, determined young lady."

"So...so you haven't come to take my soul?" I squeaked, trying to clarify what was happening.

"Not today, at least," he responded. "Now, I'm sure you didn't kill that hussy for the hell of it, did you?" I shook my head, my voice temporarily gone as I struggled to figure out where he was going with this. "What are you up to?"

"N-none of your business, sir!" I snapped defensivly, turning away from him. "If you'll excuse me..."

"But, dear, I'd like to offer you my services," I stopped at his words. This man, this Grell Sutcliff, wanted to help me? "If you'll tell me what you're up to, that is."

"My mother," I said after a moment, turning to gaze up at him with my bright, blue eyes. "I'm trying to find her to avenge my father's murder. I want to punish her, her lover, and those men she hired to help kill my father...he was a good man and he didn't deserve what happened to him...her sin cannot go without penance..."

"Oh, how exciting~" he chimed, cutting me off. "How simply dramatic!" He paused and smiled at me again. "I take it you accept my help?"

"Yes," I nodded and holding my hand out to shake his. I nearly died when he bent to kiss it instead, his sharp teeth grazing my knuckles. "I'd very much like your assistance, Mr. Sutcliff. Perhaps we can discuss this more at-" I shut my mouth, realizing I now had no where to stay.

"Does your mother live in London?"

"As far as I know."

"Let's pay her a visit, shall we?"


	3. To the Stanhope Manor

**A/N Thanks so much for the reviews! They mean a lot to me and motivate me to keep this going. So, here it is, the next chapter of Red Butler. Lame chapter title is lame, I know...and Butler!Grell returns! I don't own Grell-san, but I do own Philomena. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 2: To the Stanhope Manor

I started to head back to the door of Matron's office but Grell put his hand on my elbow, stopping me.

"What?" I asked, giving him a confused look.

"Miss Philomena," he said, making me wince at the use of the first name I'd always loathed, although no one had called me by it in ages.

"If you're going to be my butler," that was what we had decided after he told me he was 'a butler to die for', "shouldn't you call me 'my lady?' If you must address me as something else, I would prefer Miss Grace, as that is my middle name. I've always despised the name Philomena."

"Whatever you wish, my lady," he responded with another ghastly wink. "But as I was about to say, you cannot go out the front. What if someone were to see you and put two and two together?" I pursed my lips; he did have a point.

"What do you sugges-AH!" I gasped loudly as he suddenly picked me up bridal style, like I weighed close to nothing (which was sort of true, but still). "Mr. Sutcliff! What are you doing?!"

"My lady, there is but one way for us to get where we need to be," he explained, moving towards the windowsill. My eyes widened as I realized what he was alluding to.

"But we can't! We're three stories up!" I said hurriedly, clutching his vest with both of my hands, hoping to talk some sense into him.

"Didn't you wonder how I came here in the first place?" he teased. I opened my mouth to retort but it turned into a sharp shriek as he suddenly lept out the window, landing on a rooftop across the alley. Before I could even catch my breath after the initial shock, he jumped to another with inhuman agility. Well, he had said he was a Shinigami, hadn't he? I held tightly to his shirt and buried my face in his chest, keeping my eyes shut, although I could still feel the wind whistling in my ears and whipping my hair about. With haste, I gave him my mother's address in the West End and let him take us there, all while I fought the urge to be sick.

When we arrived at the front entrance of my former home, Grell set me down. I was a bit unsteady from the journey but quickly regained myself. I placed my hand on the door handle, which was unsurprisingly locked and turned to peer into one of the windows.

"It looks like no one has lived here in years..." I stated as I made out the sheets covering the furniture, the grime and dust everywhere. I had to admit, I was rather disappointed.

"No matter," Grell said, dismissing my notes with a carefree wave of his hand. "We'll be able to live here now instead." And with that, we let ourselves in.

* * *

A quick search of the manor revealed my earlier suspicions; the house was empty and had been for quite some time. During our scan, I noticed a few subtle changes that she had brought about. For one, my old room was completely bare; the woman had undoubtly sold off all my possessions. Indeed, any objects that would've been of value were no where to be seen.

I sat down on the edge of my parents' old bed in the master bedroom, after Grell and I had taken the dusty sheets off it and cleaned the room a tad. A sideways glance at the grandmother clock told me it was nearly three in the morning.

"Young mistress!" I turned to the door and saw my red butler, a bundle of pristine, white clothes in his arms. "I found some nightclothes for you. These should do for tonight but we should probably buy you things first thing tomorrow."

"Thank you, Grell," I muttered, accepting the nightgown and holding it to my chest. After a moment of hesitation, I added, "I-I don't exactly have any money to buy anything right now. We'll have to make due with what we have, until I can figure out a way to get my inheritance..." He nodded, giving me that toothy grin I was beginning to grow accustomed to. I kicked him out while I changed but found that I couldn't undo the buttons at the back of my dress, my hands were trembling so badly.

"Would you...help me for a moment?" I asked, poking my head into the hall, feeling my face heat up.

"What do you require, my lady?" he responded, bouncing over to me. I turned so my back was to him and stared at the ground, embarrassed.

"I need you to unbutton this for me," I said, flinching when I felt him set to the task. The cool leather of his gloves brushed against my shoulder blades and spine as he fumbled with the buttons, making me cringe slightly. I dashed away when I felt his hands retract, having taken much longer then was necessary for such a simple task, and slammed the door shut, my cheeks ablaze.

"Grell, you can have the room next to mine..." I said upon his reentry to blow out the candles that were by my bedside. "Alright?"

"Very well...Grace," I frowned at his sudden informality with me and throw a pillow at him from my place in bed, nestled under the covers, which smelt musty and aged.

"Remember, we are not friends," I snapped as he caught it effortlessly and returned it to its original location. "We're mistress and servant, so show a little decorum, please!" I sighed as he merely laughed and exstinguished the candles, engulfing the room in darkness. I heard him make his way towards the door and squinted, making out his silhouette as it squeaked open.

"Sleep well, my determined lady~" he said, before I was left alone for the first time in ten years.

* * *

When one is used to sleeping in a crowded corridor with dozens of other girls, it's quite difficult to sleep by oneself.

It was too quiet, I thought to myself as I burrowed further under the sheets, feeling my body begin to shake. The darkness I could handle, but the silence, the loneliness, were too much. Although I had had my own bed at the orphanage, a luxury because I was the oldest girl and had been there longer than anyone, I had often shared it with frightened children who had had nightmares and needed someone to hold them while they slept; even on the nights I had my bed to myself, I could hear the snores, the breathing, the stirring of others.

I opened my mouth to summon Grell but stopped and hesitated. What if he had left me? What if he, who I thought understood my need for revenge, had decided he wasn't interested in helping a weak, seemingly unstable orphan? Still, I had to try, didn't I?

"Grell?" I called, my voice sounding simply pitiful, so pathetic it was. "Gr-" I needn't ask for him twice, because he was already opening the door, a plain candelabra in his hand. I narrowed my eyes when I realized he looked...different.

"You called me, my lady?" His voice was shyer, more reproachful and reserved, and his body language was rather tense, showing...nervousness? Anxiety? What had happened to the bold, confident man I had met in Matron's office?

"I did but you look..." I searched for a word that wouldn't offend him; after all, he wanted to help me commit murders; ergo, how sane could this man be?

"Oh, this?" he inquired, his voice falling back into its normal (at least from what I'd heard of it) pattern. I took a moment to take in the rest of his appearance. His wild mane of brilliant red hair was now a dull brown, tied back with a red ribbon, and his odd eyes were a more normal, light green. He was no longer wearing the crimson coat or his high heels, instead wearing the black suit and white gloves of a butler, although his red and white striped bow remained tied around his neck. To top it all off, he had swapped his scarlet spectacles and ornate chain for a plain pair of round glasses and a silver chain.

"Yes, that..." I confirmed, giving him an affirmative nod.

"Well, my dear," I again winced at the way he loosely addressed me, his mistress. "If I'm going to be fulfilling the role of butler, I need to look and play the part. I am a first-rate actress after all!" I smirked at his use of the feminine noun, not that it really surprised me, what with his flamboyancy and attitude and such. "Now, what do you need, my lady?" He fell back into his helpless butler persona quite impressively.

"Oh..." I bit my lip before responding. "I'm not used to...sleeping by myself so would you mind...staying over there," I nodded towards the chaiz lounge near her wardrobe. "Until I fall asleep? Please?" He grinned, shyly though, and I noticed his teeth were normal looking as well.

"Of course, Miss Grace. Anything for you~"


	4. Making Discoveries

**A/N Ooh, new chapter. I'll be honest, I've actually gotten all twelve chapters of this written. I just need to format them and send them to Lady Of Kalam. A new chapter should come out every couple of days or so, because of this. Anyway, I don't own Kuroshitsuji, just Philomena. This chapter is basically a bit of background...there's some more action in the next.**

Chapter 3: Making Discoveries**(A/N in bed)~lady of K**  
A sharp stream of light and a lungful of dust was what I woke to the next morning. I blinked my eyes open, squinting in the brightness to make out Grell standing at the window, having just opened the curtains and released a cloud of dirt that sent me into a coughing fit.

"Up, my lady, up!" he mused, striding over to stand by my bedside. "We have a busy day ahead of us!"

"And what, pray tell, are we doing?" I asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of my bleary eyes. I groaned and flopped back on the bed as the grandmother clock chimed nine, meaning I had only had about five or six hours of sleep. "I'm tired, go away."

"Oh, young mistress, the two of us have much work to do today," he replied, picking up a teapot from the tray he had obviously placed on my bedside table while I was sleeping and pouring it into a delicate, cheap-looking teacup. I sat back up and accepted it wearily.

"You washed these, right?" I inquired, swirling the liquid around in the cup.

"Of course, I did!" he pouted as I took a sip, only to pull a face. "What's wrong?"

"This is too weak," I noted, handing the cup back to him and frowning. "Now leave so I can dress..." my voice trailed off as I realized the only clothes I had were covered in Matron's blood. I gasped as a stack of folded clothing was dropped on my lap. I glanced up at Grell, a tad confused.

"I managed to get the blood out," he explained with a wink. "I am a deadly efficient butler, after all~" He struck a ridiculous pose, making me smile.

"Thank you...now LEAVE."

* * *

I bounded down the stairs in the outfit I had left the orphanage in, minus the apron, and was about to do a bit of exploring around my old home to see what was still around, when I heard a knock at the front door. After I got over the initial shock, I started to head towards it but Grell beat me there. A large smile spread across my face upon the door being opened when I recognized the person on the other side; my old neighbor.

"Mrs. Pershing!" I was astonished. Mrs. Pershing was a close friend of both my mother and my father, and as a result, she'd become sort of like a grandmother to me; with a start, I realized she might have an idea where my mother was... "What brings you here? Come in, come in!"

"Oh, Philomena," the older woman sighed with tears in her dark eyes as she suddenly pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. I tried not to roll my eyes at her use of my real forename; I had never managed to convince her to call me Grace. I was always Philomena to her. "I was coming home the other night after the opera and saw a light on and I thought maybe your mum had come back but this is even better!" At the mention of my mother, I now knew I had to have a good, long chat with Mrs. Pershing about what happened since I was abandoned.

"Grell, put some more tea on. I'm taking Mrs. Pershing to the drawing room."

* * *

After removing the sheets that covered it, Mrs. Pershing and I sat together on the velvet loveseat while Grell served us tea, which was still too weak, but I let it slide.

"What's happened since I was last around?" I prodded as Mrs. Pershing took a sip of the tea. I cocked my head to the side slightly, ready to listen intently.

"Oh, my dear Philomena, after your father was so heartlessly murdered by those burglars and you ran away," my eye twitched noticeably here. No doubt this was the lie my mother had come up with to explain my absence. "Your poor, old mum was a wreck. She came to me crying every day, wondering what she had done to make God so angry with her, why she was punished by not only loosing the man she loved to such a horrific crime, but her only daughter, only child, as well, just weeks later.

"Then, about two years after all that, she met a nice gentleman by the name of James Nottingham. They courted for a bit, and soon enough, they got married. I remember just a few weeks before the wedding, Samantha came to me, feeling a bit upset by all this. She said she felt like she was betraying her dear Edmund for marrying so soon after his passing, but she was deeply in love with James and did not want to wait to be with him, for fear that she would loose him as well.

"Anyway, the last I heard, your mum moved up north with James." I nodded along but the truth was that Mrs. Pershing's little monologue had not given me much more information. I had already known about James Nottingham, as he had been my mother's lover, so the fact that he had married her didn't surprise me in the least. The problem was, I didn't know where they were living, or even if they lived under the same names anymore; she did have a flare for pseudonyms after all.

"Now, Philomena," I pulled myself from the depths of my thoughts as Mrs. Pershing addressed me. "Where HAVE you been these past ten years? You left when you were seven! We were all sure you wouldn't manage on your own and would either die on the streets or come running back. How in the name of Heaven have you stayed alive for so long?"

"Well, ma'am," I began, my tone respectful. I glanced sideways to look for Grell but it appeared he had left the room; I had to improvise on my own. "I-I just couldn't cope after the loss of my father. I needed time to be alone so I left. I scavenged on the streets mostly but there were some shopkeepers who allowed me to board with them for a few weeks at a time in exchange for labor. I stayed with a tailor, a few bakers, even a private doctor. They were so very kind to me, you see, and if not for them, I would surely have perised, alone. This was how I managed for the past ten years. Then, a few days ago, I decided to return home to see my...dear mother, but alas, my butler and I found that she had left; in any case, we'll be using the townhouse now that my mother has vacated it until such time that she returns or we find her." Goodness, I hadn't had a formal conversation with anyone in ages, and it bothered me, felt strange, really, to have to be so cordial with someone again.

"Oh, what a story you have there, Philomena!" Mrs. Pershing exclaimed, reaching over to pat my shoulder with her hand, a small smile present on her rotund, red-cheeked face. "I'm just so pleased you're alright, darling girl." She placed her teacup back on the tray and stood. "I'm afraid I must take my leave now, but it was so lovely to see you again!"

"It was lovely to see you as well, Mrs. Pershing, you as well..."

* * *

After Mrs. Pershing left, Grell and I spent the day making the house more presentable. I did help with some of the dusting and scrubbing and such, but I also had a might bit of planning to do.

While he prepared dinner, using the last of my meager savings from the orphanage, I wrote a few letters; the first went to the Royal Bank of London, inquiring about the inheritence my father had left me and if I would be able to collect it. The second was to Queen Victoria, and I wrote to her about receiving my family's title, for I was sure my mother wanted nothing to do with it. Once I became Lady Philomena Stanhope, I would officially be the owner of the estate and it would be much easier for me to gain access to my inheritence, and gain knowledge about my targets, as a noblewoman.

Sighing to myself, I leaned against the straight-backed wooden chair and turned my head to look at the beautiful night sky, the smooth velvety blackness pierced by the occasional light of stars, which shone like diamonds.

"My lady?" I didn't look away from the window as I heard Grell's voice from the doorway.

"We'll find them..." I said, not really responding to his query. "I know we will...and when we do..." I slammed my fist down on the elegant desk, my voice rising with determination. "They'll pay for what they did!"


	5. Revenge and a Visit from Dispatch

**A/N New chapter~ Guess who makes a comeback...If you read my other story, The Assassin and the Reaper, you'll know her. It's not Adrienne Knight, nor Adelaide Montrose, but Cordelia Croix-Rouge! She's reappearing with some stern words for her senpai. Short chapter is short...so is the next, I'm afraid, but they get longer. Anyway, reviews are appreciated. I don't own anything except Philomena and Cordelia.**

**Dear Scotland's Pond, time to stop being a loser and get your own account. please leave a review if u want her to get her own account, Lady of Kalam!**

Chapter 4: Revenge and a Visit from Dispatch  
"Please, miss! Please spare me! I beg of you! I didn't want to do it! James and Samantha made me, I swear!" I stood above the pleading man kneeling before me, Lord Philip Watson. His hands were locked together, his large, brown eyes boring into mine as he begged for his life.

"But you see, sir," I grabbed his collar and brought him closer to me, pressing the edge of my dagger against his throat, causing small beads of blood to appear near the blade. "You murdered my father, and if you truly hadn't wanted to do it, you would've done something. Scotland Yard exists for a reason, you know."

"Please, Miss Stanhope," Lord Watson's voice was hoarse, his face showing immense fear. "Please forgive m-"

Both of our heads turned to the door that separated the master bedroom from the corridor as a sharp, feminine scream sounded, accompanied by the whirring of machinery. I took the chance, using his sudden distraction to my advantage, to slit his throat cleanly and let his body slump to the floor.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," I said, standing up and heading for the door, wiping my bloody face with the back of my hand. "You were one of the men employed by my mother and her lover to kill my father." My hand was on the knob by now but I added, "You've gone unpunished for ten long years, going on eleven. My father deserves to be avenged, no?"

I stepped out into the hallway and grimaced slightly at the gore that splattered the walls, having obviously come from the body of Lady Watson. I shook my head as Grell moved away from the corpse, a look of pure sadism on his face.

"You did it again," I accused when I noticed the vermillion smudges on her lips, dusting her cheeks as well. "We're working, remember? There isn't time for you to be messing about."

"But, young mistress!" he protested as we made our way to the window at the end of the long corridor, so we could escape via the rooftops. "She looks so much better now, don't you think?"

I glanced over my shoulder at Lady Watson's body before giving a small nod. "I-I suppose so...If you think she does..."

* * *

It had been five weeks since I had first left the orphanage and employed Grell as my butler. In that time, I had not only managed to reveive my title from the Crown, but had also secured my inheritence; as it turned out, my father had had a hunch that he would be killed. The result was that he'd arranged for me to be able to collect my inheritence within twenty years of his passing. If I did not receive it within that time frame, only then would it go to my mother. My father thought of everything.

Using my newfound wealth, I had hired a few new servents, as I felt it was unfair to make Grell do all the work around such a large home (and he desperately needed help for his was rather incompetent when it came to some things). I had employed two maids, sisters; the elder was named Ellaine Perry and the younger, Georgianna. Both were very hard-working, but quiet and shy. Still, I did manage to get them to come out of their shells sometimes. I had also hired a chef, Monroe, who had a knack for making sweets, and a footman, Atkins, who was rather young, audacious, and highly energetic.

In addition, I had managed to go through old Scotland Yard files investigating my father's murder, read statements from witnesses, found arrest records, and written up a hit-list.

Grell and I had gone to our first target a week prior to our encounter with Lord Watson. The first man we killed was one Sir Rupert Airedale, an unmarried knight of the British Empire. Now that we had two down, we had but two to go, in addition to my mother and James Nottingham.

After killing Lord Watson that night, I hadn't the strength or resolve to do much else. I simply stumbled off to my bedroom, for the evening's events had left me exhausted. The only words I spoke upon our arrival back at the townhouse were to tell my butler, covered in crimson splotches of blood, to not wake me until at least eight the next morning.

"I need time to be alone," I explained as I stood outside my room, trying not to stare at the red stains on his clothing.

"Very well, my lady," he mused as he bounced towards the staircase. "I'll see to it that no one bothers you until that time."

"Good...that's good..."

* * *

Grell Sutcliff, butler to the Stanhope family, was just about to retire for the night when he heard a tap on his window pane. Frowning in confusion, he pulled his lacy, red dressing gown closer around himself before heading over to the window, his heels clacking against the wooden floor. He opened it slightly, a gust of wind rustling his hair, which had turned back to its normal red hue, and leaned out.

There, sitting on the rooftop, was none other than Cordelia Croix-Rouge of the London Dispatch. The blonde woman opened her mouth, probably to start scolding him loudly, but her former teacher quickly leaned further out the window, placed his hand over her mouth, effectivly shushing her, and held his finger up to his lips; Grace's window was right next to his, and open due to the warm weather lately, so she would undoubtly hear if Cordelia made a ruckus.

Grell beckoned for her to enter, and with a roll of her bright, yellow-green eyes, the slim young woman slapped his hand away from her face and did so. He shut the window behind her and placed his hands on his hips.

"Grell Sutcliff, just what the HELL do you think you're up to?!" she hissed, glaring at him in a way he had never seen, in all the years he had known her, and mirroring his pose. "The Board is furious that you're up to this after you were already suspended for the 'Jack the Ripper' incident. Will sent me to warn you to knock it off and come back to work, or trust me, it won't be pretty."

"Oh, please, Cordelia," he dismissed her admonishing with a wave of his hand and turned away from her. "I'm simply having a little fun; this Philomena Stanhope, she's rather entertaining. I do believe I'm having a better time as her butler than I did with Madam Red!"

"It's that that's bothering Will," Cordelia interjected, crossing her arms over her black suit jacket. "Let me speak to you as your friend, not as your co-worker; you need to stop. You realize that you're putting Miss Stanhope in danger as well? Look at what happened with Ms. Durless. When she ceased to amuse you, you killed her. Will you do the same with Miss Stanhope? Will you kill her if she can't follow through with what she's planning to do? There is a chance she may decide she doesn't want to murder her mother, after all. Even if you don't dispose of her, she's gaining a little too much knowledge of Shinigami for the Board's taste. They have half a mind to have Administration put her on the To-Die List, you kn-" Cordelia reeled back in shock as Grell suddenly grabbed her shoulders, his demeanor much different from before.

"You can't let them kill her!" he said, his voice rising with hysteria. "You need to make sure they don't!"

"Why should I?" Cordelia snapped, pulling away and heading over to the window. "Just so you can continue playing around and murdering humans with her?" The blonde already had one leg out the window before she turned back to add, "That's how you see her, though, isn't it?" She pushed her powder blue spectacles up the bridge of her nose as she voiced the thought that had been vexing her, ever since she learnt that he was at it again. "Something to play with, a doll, and once she breaks...you throw her away." And with that, the female leapt onto the rooftop and away from the manor, leaving a highly unhinged Grell in her wake.


	6. Gaining the Attention of the Queen's Gua

**A/N Ah, look who comes in this chapter! Ciel and Sebastian make a little appearance. Anywho, in regards to Kalam's antics, she knows very well that I can't get a fanfic account for certain reasons. She's just mad because I use hers more often than she does~ So, without further ado, here's the next chapter! I only own Philomena, but I wish I owned Grell (if you haven't figured it out, I have a thing for him. The only person I know who loves him more than I do is Lady of Kalam). Reviews are appreciated!**

Chapter 5: Gaining the Attention of the Queen's Guard Dog

"M...ace..."

"...iss...Gra..."

"Miss Grace!"

I shot up, startled, as I was roused from my deep sleep, but sighed in relief when I saw it was only Ellaine and Georgianna. The grandmother clock was chiming eight on the nose, which meant Grell had done what I'd instructed the night before.

"My lady, you must dress! We've received word that the Earl Phantomhive is coming to visit you this afternoon!" Ellaine's voice came out in a panicked rush.

"What?! If you knew this, why didn't you wake me sooner?" I gasped, scurrying out from under the warm sheets and quickly pulling my gauzy, white dressing gown over my pale green night dress.

"Mr. Sutcliff...told us...n-not to wake you until eight..." Georgianna explained, her words pierced with mumbles and stutters; the poor thing was noticeably more reserved than her elder sister and didn't say nearly as much. I sighed as I crossed to my wardrobe, my back to my maids.

"So he did...Well, Georgianna, why don't you see to it that Atkins is aware that we're receiving a visitor today, and make sure that Monroe prepares enough supper for our guest. It would be terribly rude if we didn't have food to serve him..."

"Y-yes, my lady," Georgianna squeaked in response, her mouse-brown braid swinging as she scuttled out of the room, leaving me alone with Ellaine.

"What is...Mr...Sutcliff...up to...anyway?" I huffed as Ellaine helped me to lace up my corset. "Usually...he...wakes me..."

"He's helping to prepare for Earl Phantomhive's visit," she answered, grunting as she pulled the laces of my corset tighter. "There, how's that, my lady?"  
"Fine," I breathed, placing my hand on my stomach for a moment.

"What dress would you like to wear today?" Ellaine asked, flipping through my collection of gowns. I turned my gaze to the fabrics, the blues and pinks and purples, until it fell on the single, red dress I had bought, most likely to cease Grell's pestering about my choices in fashion. I tilted my head to the side as I studied it; he had been right; it really was quite beautiful, a deep scarlet and trimmed with black lace. I reached out to touch the silky material and nodded towards the one item I had yet to wear in my wardrobe.

"I think I'll wear this today, Ellaine..."

* * *

That morning was spent preparing for Phantomhive's visit; I was so terribly on edge, for I hadn't had a visitor since Mrs. Pershing over a month ago and I didn't have a clue why the Earl would want to visit the likes of me. Still, he arrived a little past three, in a grand carriage accompanied by his own butler.

The Earl was a young man, short but obviously a few years my senior. He wore an eyepatch over his left eye and carried himself with a certain dignity. His butler was quite dashing, with black hair and strange red eyes. He towered over me (but then, who didn't? Even petite Georgianna was a few inches taller than me) and would be highly intimidating if it weren't for the smile he wore on his face, althought it was a tad...ominous.

"Lady Stanhope," the Earl addressed me in greeting as we sat down to afternoon tea, which Monroe had helped Grell to prepare. "As you are aware, I am the Earl Ciel Phantomhive, and this is my butler, Sebastian Michaelis." I nodded towards the man as Ciel introduced the butler with a careless wave of his hand.

"Please, call me Miss Grace," I insisted, taking a sip of the Lady Grey tea; I couldn't stand how strong Earl Grey was, so I preferred the Lady Grey kind. "Now, may I inquire as to the nature of your visit? To what do I owe such an honor?"

"Miss Grace," the Earl's voice was firm and steady as he looked me directly in the eye. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but two nobles of high society, along with one of their wives, have been found murdered in the past two weeks," I opened my mouth to speak, but Ciel held his hand up to shush me. "If you were about to ask me what this has to do with you, well, both of those men were indicted on charges of murder almost eleven years ago, but were later released due to lack of evidence and possible bribery. The murder in question is that of Earl Edmund Stanhope, your father."

"It seems to me," I began as Grell entered the room, carrying a tray of pastries to accompany the tea. I narrowed me eyes as I saw Ciel fix my butler with a writhing glare that sent chills down my spine. I cleared my throat to get the Earl's attention back on me. "Lord Phantomhive, I believe I'm over here. As I was saying, it seems to me that someone is taking justice into their own hands. There are many vigilantes in London alone; perhaps you should investigate them?"

"Lady Stanhope, I suggest you tread carefully," the Earl stood, leaning heavily against his walking stick and giving me a fierce look. I rose as well, handing my teacup to Grell and planting my hands on my hips.

"Just what are you implying, Earl?" I snapped without thinking, mentally kicking myself when I realized how defensive I must've sounded.

"Nothing at all, Miss Grace," Lord Phantomhive replied, a note of smugness in his voice. "A simple warning."

"If you'll excuse me..." I said quickly, through gritted teeth. "I just remembered I need to attend to something." And with that, I began to dash from the room, but before I could complete my hasty retreat, Ciel grasped my arm.

"Could I have a word with you...alone?"

* * *

I led the Earl upstairs to my private study; none of the other servants, except for Grell, of course, were allowed in the room, so it was slightly dingy, but usable nonetheless.

"What is it you wanted to say to me?" I inquired, genuinly curious as Ciel took the seat in front of my desk while I took the one behind it.

"I need to warn you about something else..." he explained, folding his hands on my desk and leaning forward.

"Yes?" I prompted, tilting my head to the side curiously.

"Your butler, Grell Sutcliff. He's not who you may think he is. He's not...human," I blinked but felt my face grow into a smile.

"Oh, I know, Earl," I assured him, making as if to stand. "Trust me, I know."

"Miss Grace, there is something else you need to know about him!" Ciel added, giving me a stern glance. I sank back into my seat and waited. "He's merely using you; he wants to be entertained, is all. Once you've finished...do you honestly think he'll let you continue living?"

"Well, I never! Of course he-"

"No! Grace Stanhope, you know nothing about this man. Once you cease to amuse him, he'll end you. That's all you are to him; a plaything, and you'll never be anything more. You are expendable, disposable, if you will. Do not say I didn't warn you, Lady. I shan't be surprised if it's you who turns up dead next."

As the Earl stalked from my study, grumbling about how he would be taking his leave, I felt something wet running down my cheeks. I pressed my fingertips against them, stunned to find he had reduced me to tears. Sighing shakily, I did the only thing I could think of at the moment; I placed my head in my hands, leaned against my desk and sobbed.


	7. Revalations and Confessions

**A/N Here it is, the moment we've all been waiting for! To mark the halfway point in this story, we get confessions...and lime~ No lemon, because, honestly, I started to blush like crazy when I thought about it, but I implied** it... lol ur r such a prude So,** yeah, lime, Cordelia playing love guru again, and Philomena's eighteenth birthday, but not necessarily in that order. I only own Philomena and Cordelia. Enjoy!**

Chapter 6: Revalations and Confessions

Five weeks, I thought as I cleaned Baron Arthur Dunlap's blood from my face. That made it ten weeks since I had begun my revenge with Grell but I had hardly spoken to him in the five weeks since Lord Phantomhive's visit, for his warning had deeply unnerved me.

Although we had finally managed to kill all the men hired by that woman and her lover (in addition to Baron Dunlap, we had taken out the Viscount Hadley, Anthony Easton, seventeen days prior), I could not shake the Earl's words from my mind. They were especially troubling me at this moment; seeing Grell murder the Baron's wife without a second of hesitation reminded me that he was exceedingly dangerous and, if Ciel was correct, would have no trouble killing me.

Feeling my throat constrict with tears, I slipped into my nightgown and curled up on my bed, pulling the sheets tight around my ample bosom. I didn't understand why I was so upset at the notion that he might kill me so soon, other than for the obvious reasons. Was it that...I had trusted him and thought he would never cast me away so cruely? Was it that I thought he was the only one who understood my desire for vengance? Or perhaps was it that I felt...

Absolutely not, I mentally scolded myself as a sudden thought crossed my mind. I was not in love with him! No way! No bloody way in Hell! But...my face lately blazed burgundy when he was around, and...my heart had soared when he complimented how I looked in my crimson dress. My pulse always quickened when I was near him, and sometimes, I started to get tongue-tied and nervous. And then, of course, there were those unholy thoughts...Oh, no...all the signs were pointing to it...I was in love with Grell Sutcliff.

I placed my hands over my face and sighed deeply, trying to figure a few things out in my mind. Tomorrow was my eighteenth birthday, yes, and I had invited Mrs. Pershing over to "celebrate." Of course, it was merely a front to see if she could remember anything about where my mother might be, as she and James Nottingham were the last ones I needed to kill to avenge my father. After that...

"Philomena Grace Stanhope," I whispered fiercly to myself. "Tomorrow night, you will tell him how you feel...Even if it kills you..." Well, I thought, at least I'll have spoken my mind, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

"Say, Cordelia? May I ask you something?" While his mistress slept after their latest murder, Grell was sitting near the windowsill of his room in her home with Cordelia next to him. The petite blonde Shinigami had come to visit, not on orders from Will, but on her own accord, as it was her day off. She blinked, surprised by her redhaired senpai's sudden change in demeanor. Just seconds before they had been reminiscing about the time they'd had to investigate moving corpses on the Campania, along with Ronald Knox, and now, he wanted to ask her something?

"Yes, of course," she replied, her yellow-green eyes full of curiousity. "You can ask me anything, you know."

"You know I don't do well with women...right?" Cordelia's mouth spread in a wide smirk as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Where are you going with this, Grell?" she inquired, arching a delicate eyebrow at him.

"I haven't felt this way about a woman in a long time...since Madam..." he explained; his gaze was not on her and this made Cordelia rather suspicious.

"Are you saying you like...me?" her voice rose a pitch due to her confusion. Then, it dawned on her what he was saying. "Holy crap, no. You don't mean...it's that Philomena Stanhope woman, isn't it?"

"Yes-" Grell looked like he was going to say more but Cordelia cut him off.

"Well, I have to say, I'd certainly rather you being in love with her, even if she's a human, than with that demon scum."

"You leave my dear, sweet Bassy out of this!" he snapped, shoving her shoulder and sending her toppling to the floor. She laughed as she scrapped herself off the ground and dusted off her blue and white dress.

"Whatever, hon," she giggled, tapping the heel of her pure white ankle boot on the ground. "But, you simply cannot just harbor some secret love for your mistress! You need to tell her!"

"How, though?" Grell whined in response, pouting slightly. "Have you ever told someone you love them?"

"No, and I'm keeping it that way. You know I don't fall in love. I'm an old spinster and I like it." Cordelia reminded him. Leaning forward, she placed her hand on his knee and flashed an encouraging smile. "You told Angelina Durless that you loved her, though, didn't you? I'm sure you'll be able to do it again. You need to try, is all...You know what, let's practice! Pretend I'm Philomena!"

"Well, you know it would be much easier if you were as gorgeous as she i-"

"Shut the hell up. Now."

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Philomena!" I held back a sigh as Mrs. Pershing pressed a kiss to each of my cheeks and handed me an intricatly wrapped present. "Why don't we sit and you can open your gift." Once the two of us were lounging on the loveseat, I carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a pair of beautiful gloves made of scarlet leather.

"Oh, how lovely," I mused, my voice full of honesty sincerity as I slid my hands into them, flexing my fingers and admiring how they appeared. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Pershing."

"Philomena, you're a young woman now, not a child. You needn't call me Mrs. Pershing anymore. Mary will do just fine." Mrs. Pershing chastized me, wagging her finger, although her face was still rather good-natured.

"Mary, then," I confirmed, nodding slightly. "Have you heard anything from my mother lately? I'd love to find her soon; I'm sure she'd hate to find out she missed my eighteenth birthday, and she hasn't seen me in eleven years." I felt a hopeful smile grace my face as Mrs. Pershing's eyes lit up.

"As a matter of fact, I have, indeed! I received a letter from her not three days ago, telling me she's moved to Manchester with her husband and new daughter. Apparently, the girl's name is Violet Anne Nottingham, and she's six years old. I even have a photograph I've brought to show you," Mrs. Pershing enthused as she handed me a black and white image. I recognized my mother almost instantly, although her face was a tad more lined; there, next to her, was her lover (now her husband), who was still as handsome as ever, although the cold and calculated look hadn't left his eyes. Between them, was a young girl, smile full of innocence. I resisted the urge to crush the picture in my hand but passed it back to Mrs. Pershing and forced myself to smile.

"How wonderful," I heard myself say cheerfully, when my insides were burning with rage and hatred. "I've a younger sister. Did you write back to my mother yet?"

"No, I wanted to tell you first," Mrs. Pershing responded, tucking the photo back in her handbag. "Besides, the envelope doesn't have a return address, so I can't write back." Damn, I thought. So close, yet so far...At least I now knew she was in Manchester.

"That's alright, I'll look up her address and give it to you," I assured her, patting her hand.

"You're such a good girl, Philomena," Mrs. Pershing cooed, squeezing my own hand. "Now, why don't we have your Birthday tea?"

"Yes, yes of course. Let's."

* * *

That night, I met Grell halfway between my bedroom and his.

"I have something to tell you," my eyes widened slightly as we spoke in unison. "It's important."

"You first," I insisted after an awkward moment of silence. "What do you have to say that's so important?"

"I love you." I furred my eyebrows in shock at his words; did I hear him right? "I think you're simply beautiful and alluring and determined...and...to put it simply, you get me rather hot and bothered~" I placed my hands over my face for a moment before I acted so rashly I couldn't even believe it myself.

I slapped him as hard as I could across the face; it was a wonder I didn't knock his spectacles off. He opened his mouth to say something but I moved to hit him again; this time, however, he caught my wrist and held it tightly.

"My dear lady, why do you wound me so?" I shivered as he whispered in my ear, his hair brushing against my skin softly.

"You're lying, that's why!" I snapped, pushing him away from me and turning my back to him. "Lord Phantomhive told me all about you! He says you're just using me to amuse yourself and that I mean absolutely nothing to you; in fact, once we finish, he says you'll kill me!"

"Oh, my darling Grace," he sighed dramatically, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around my waist. I turned my head slightly to look at him as he placed his chin on my shoulder, his breath misting against my throat. "Perhaps I joined your exploits to escape the boredom of my life at first, but believe me when I say I'm very much in love with you."

"I-I don't know what to say..." I muttered, looking away from him. "How do I know that you really do love me?" In response, he grasped my shoulders and turned me around to face him; I started to ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, but before I could, his lips were pressed against mine. I stood stiffly, not resisting, but not returning his affections either. Obviously disappointed, he pulled away and sighed. Seeing him turn to leave was what kicked my arse into gear.

Lunging forward as he reached the door to his room, I grabbed his arm. "Please don't go..." I said softly, looking up at him. "You didn't wait for my response, after all..." I took his silence as a sign to continue, so, in a sudden bout of boldness, I leant up and kissed him back eagerly. His immediate response knocked the wind out of me as he shoved me against the wall, his hands grabbing my hips and squeezing them harshly.

"Goddammit, Grell" I panted as he pulled away to let me breath, "Don't be so rough!" I looked down for a moment, my back still pressed against the cool wall, but when I returned my gaze to him, his appearance had changed; gone was the adorable, innocent butler and in his place was the flaming, confident Shinigami I had met nearly three months previously.

"Forgive me, my lady," I cringed at the toothy grin he gave me, knowing what it meant. "But I can get rather aggressive~" Feeling a bit apprehensive, I allowed him to take my hand, lead me into his room, and push me down upon his bed. I was trembling (with either nervousness or anticipation. Possibly both...) by the time he slid ontop of me, his knees straddling my waist.

"Please be gen-ah!" My request for him to take it easy on me was cut off by a cry of shock as his mouth suddenly attacked my neck. I could feel his sharp teeth scrapping against my skin as he kissed my throat roughly; while one of his hands remained at my waist, the other slid up my ribcage before grasping my breast sharply, causing me to buck my hips into his. I moved one of my hands into his long, red hair, and pulled his head away from my neck. His bright, yellow-green eyes showed a flicker of confusion before I placed my own lips against his neck.

It was cute really, all the little noises he made as I placed kisses along his neck before biting him hard enough to leave a mark. I blinked my eyes as he moved my face back, only to let them flicker shut when he crashed his lips against me once more, this time passionatly thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I let a longing whimper escape my throat as his tongue explored my mouth before roughly tangling with my own.

"You sound like you're enjoying yourself," he teased when he finally paused so I could catch my breath.

"I could say the same about you," I retorted, smiling softly. "By the way, as your mistress, I didn't say you could stop and comment. K-keep going..."

"Certainly, my lady~"

"If we're gonna...I mean...dammit, just call me Grace..."


	8. Lovers' Feud and a Plan

**A/N Ah, a new day, a new chapter. So, before I go on, I just wanted to give a special merci to tohru15! You've commented on every chapter I've had Kalam upload and that means so very much to me. I hope my story will continue to be a source of enjoyment for you~ Also, thank you to **** .Mistress.92! Your review is greatly appreciated and I'm glad to know you think my silly little story is utter deliciousness~ ****Anywho, I only own Philomena. Enjoy, my loyal readers!**

****Chapter 7: Lovers' Feud and a Plan

It just so happened that a blinding stream of light peeked out from the drapes over the window and managed to hit my eyes directly. Wincing, I tried to sit up in bed, not my own, I realized after a moment, but found my movements restricted.

'Just what the bloody hell happened last night?' I thought to myself, momentarily confused, before I looked down to see an arm entwined around my torso; I followed it back to its owner and nearly sweatdropped; I was in bed with Grell Sutcliff. He had changed back into his disguise during the night, but he was still asleep, and barely breathing. I narrowed my eyes and managed to make out a blooming love bite on his neck.

'Did...Did I do that?' I wondered before mentally slapping myself. 'Well, who else could've, you twit?' Carefully, I slid out of his grasp and nearly collapsed on the floor; my hips were aching and I could hardly walk. Glancing up from my perch, leaning against the bedpost, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hung on the wall.

I looked a mess, with my reddish-blonde hair sticking to my forehead and cheeks; my lips were swollen and bruised looking, and my neck and collarbone were coated in dried blood. I raised a hand to my throat, the image in the mirror confirmed when a few flakes of red came off on my fingertips. Sighing, I tiptoed over to the door, glanced back at the man still sleeping in his bed and scurried out of the room (ignoring the screams of protest from my hips), down the corridor, and to my own chambers.

Once I shut and locked the door behind me, I crossed over to my vanity and dipped a rag into my washbasin before gently cleaning the blood from my neck and shoulders; with the absense of the layer of crimson, I could make out each individual bruise and bitemark that adorned my fair skin. I'd have to wear something with a high collar to hide all of those...

Shivering, I grabbed my dressing gown from its place drapped over my chaiz lounge and pulled it over my naked form before seating myself on the chair in front of my vanity. I placed my head against the smooth surface, resting for a good ten minutes to calm myself down before I sat back up. Just as I reached for my hairbrush, to sort out my tangled mop, there was a sudden knock on the door that caused me to jump. So much for calming down...

"Just a moment," I called, hurriedly running the brush through my hair, tying the sash of my dressing gown, and sliding my feet into my slippers. As I stood, I quickly pulled the collar of the gown up and arranged my hair so that my neck was hidden. Forcing myself to breathe slowly, I unlocked the door and opened it, poking my head out curiously.

"I've brought you breakfast, my lady," I stepped back to allow Grell to enter and turned away so he couldn't see the heavy blush that was warming my face; granted, he was acting like nothing had happened between us, but I was still a bit embarrassed.

"I think I'll only have Irish Breakfast tea and a scone today...I'm not very hungry, you see," I forced myself to speak in a casual manner as I sat back down at my vanity, pointedly avoiding his gaze. I jumped slightly when I felt him place his hands on my shoulders. "What?"

"I feel I ought to ask you what this makes us," he replied, retracting his hands when I shot him a look.

"Grell..." Sighing deeply, I placed my forehead against the vanity for the second time that morning. "I don't know what to think right now...I love you, I really do, but I-" I stopped, not wanting to continue for fear of angering him.

"You what?" he prompted, nudging my leg with his hip. I slid over a bit on the chair, enough to allow him room to perch on the edge of it. Steeling my nerves, I raised my head and looked him straight in the eye.

"I'm still not sure...that you...that," I bit my lip before voicing my concerns at top speed. "I'm not sure you really love me!"

"Why, Grace, how insulting!" he snapped, standing quickly. He opened his mouth to argue but I stood as well, leaning up on my toes so I was in his face.

"I've seen how you are, though!" I retorted, trying my damndest not to cry. "Whenever you and I go out, all you do is fawn over attractive men! How can you be so lusty and not expect me to doubt you? Answer that!" Even I was suprised by the force in my command.

"Well, you're simply going to have to trust me, aren't you?" Furious with his unsatisfactory response, I shoved him towards the door.

"Get the hell away from me. Now! I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. You bloody make me sick..." Although I mumbled the last part, I was sure he heard, but he left my room without a word or a backwards glance. Needing to take my ire out on something, I snatched up the teacup and hurled it at the wall. Pleased with the satisfying shatter, I threw the saucer; smirking, I picked up the teapot with both hands and smashed it against the floor.

Breathing heavily, I sank to my knees, ignoring the stinging cuts on my hands and the drops of blood that were staining my dressing gown, and let the tears I had been holding back fall; they flowed in streams down my cheeks and the sides of my neck as I drew my arms close to myself, my chest heaving. I could hardly breathe, my body was so racked with sobs.

It would appear I was having second thoughts about a certain butler in red.

* * *

I isolated myself in my room for the rest of the day; Ellaine and Georgianna offered to come in and clean up the broken glass. I refused. Monroe tried to bring me lunch, afternoon tea, and later supper. I refused. Atkins suggested taking a day to go out on the town, to visit other nobles, perhaps. I refused; in fact, the only one of my servants that I didn't hear from was Grell, but I didn't bother asking just what he was up to. All I wanted was to be left alone with my thoughts.

My fury with Grell and the uncertainty surrounding our relationship, however, did not distract me from the task at hand; that is to say, locating my mother and James.

Sitting at my vanity, as my desk was in my study and I wasn't about to leave my room, I spent my day skimming the most recent records on the residents of Manchester (I had accessed them a few days previously through the London Library). I did, after all, need to confirm that they were indeed residing in the town. Finally, I came to a note of a sale of a decent-sized estate to one James Nottingham, just outside of Manchester. Stoically, with almost mechanical movements, I scrawled the address down on a spare piece of parchment. A quick mental calculation told me that the journey from London to Manchester, by carriage, would be about three days.

Of course, if I went by train, it would only be about four or five hours. Yes, I thought it might be best to take the train up to Manchester. We could hire a carriage to take us from the train station to the manor, but it wouldn't be wise to expose ourselves like that. It was only a couple of miles; we could walk it, no problem.

I bent over the parchment and scrawled a few notes, shaking my head to clear the drowsiness. I was starting to nod off, but I needed to get a plan together.

By the time I had a rudementary outline together, I was half-dead from exhaustion. Wearily, I clambered over to my bed, kicked off my shoes and stripped down to my petticoats and stockings (I had dressed myself, after all. I wasn't about to laze around in my nightclothes all day) before I grew too tired to continue and simply slid under the covers. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

* * *

Following his fight with Grace, Grell needed something to take his mind off the woman; in short, he went out with his death scythe and caught up with the mountains of collections he had acquired from Cordelia after her last visit. The blood, the death, the drama, it was all so glorious. How he had missed it all! Not to say, however, that he hadn't been enjoying the time he was spending with Grace; he simply desired a little free-time. One or two kills every couple of weeks was nothing like what he had done with Madam, and it did become a tad...boring at times.

All through his collections, though, Grell was distracted; not even the fascinating deaths he was graced with could take his mind off his young mistress. Was she really so angry with him? Why was it so difficult for her to believe him when he said he loved her? Honestly, the fact that he couldn't predict her actions was an insult to his female's intuition. Still, he wondered whether he ought to go back and attempt to speak with her again.

Upon finishing his missed work, Grell decided to do just that; he made excellent time, heading back to Grace's manor and arriving just after one in the morning. He had only just landed on the rooftop and was about to enter his room through the window, his bright red hair rippling in the breeze, when he heard the scream from the next window.


	9. The Stuff of Nightmares

**A/N And so, the angst I tried my hand at writing continues before the fluffiness I'm apparently so good at returns. Yeah, according to my friends, I'm the Fluff Goddess...I'm not sure what Kalam is the goddess of (probably humor (Lady of Kalam: no... probably satire and bad grammer and spelling)) but I have a friend who's the Smut Goddess! So...*whistles nonchalantly* enjoy this chapter! I own nothing but Philomena.**

Chapter 8: The Stuff of Nightmares

It's dark. Very, very dark, I notice as I move through the shadows. I'm not sure where I am, as it's pitch-black, so I stretch my hands out and wave them, like a blindman; I might as well be blind for all I can see. My fingertips brush across a fabric and I grasp it, pulling hard. It's a drape, I note, when it shifts aside to allow moonlight in, bathing the room in an eerie glow. Now that I can see, I can tell that I'm in my bedroom. Looking down at myself, I see that I'm wearing a fiery red dress and matching crimson flats. I turn in a circle, trying to figure out just what's going on, when a sudden, familiar voice causes me to jump.

"You know, red suits you rather well, dear," my heart pounding, I revolve slowly to see Grell has appeared by the window, the efflugent moon casting strange shadows on his face. I stumble back as he approaches me, his heels clicking against the floor.

"I thought you left," I admit after a moment, keeping my eyes on the ground. "But...I am glad you're back. I still need your help, after all."

"Oh, Grace, there's only one reason I came back," he says, smiling fully at me; the luminescence from the night sky glints against his sharp teeth, which unnerves me deeply. I continue to step away from him, growing more nervous when he follows.

"Why's that?" I ask, forcing myself to remain calm. As much as I hate to say it, I'm terrified.

"Every show must come to an end, you know," he pauses dramatically; the silence is so thick, one could cut it with a knife. I'm almost positive he can hear my heart pounding wildly in my chest. "And the curtain is falling on ours, my darling~"

"What do you mean...by that?" I squeak, cringing and drawing my arms to my chest. By this time, I've backed myself into a wall and mentally curse my stupidity. In response, he raises his death scythe, which shimmers in the glow from the moon. My eyes widen in realization; he means to kill me!

"N-no," I shake my head in disbelief as I slide down the wall, falling to my knees before him. "No, please!" I clasp my hands together, pleading with him (ironic, isn't it? Now, I feel like Lord Watson...) but his grin only grows wider. Tears stream down my face as the deafening roar of his death scythe starts up. He aims it down, towards my chest, and blows me a kiss. "Grell, please, don't!"

"What a magnificant finale to our performance, no?"

I scream.

* * *

I woke up with a cry of horror; my whole body was shivering, my cheeks wet with salty tears, but the only thing that registered for me was the figure standing at my bedside.

"G-get away!" I shrieked, my voice shrill and cracking. I was so, so frightened that I had no words to express it.

"Grace, darling, whatever is the matter?" I recognized the voice instantly as Grell's and shuddered when a dry heave racked my body. "Come, tell me what's wrong." I flinched as he sat beside me in bed and wrapped his arms around me.

"I-I...nothing..." It was finally registering for me that I had simply had a nightmare. A horrifyingly realistic one, but a nightmare nonetheless. "I only...had a bad dream..." After a moment of hesitation, I launched into a vague re-telling of the disturbing images that had just plagued me. "I was there...and so were you...you said...that our show was ending and you took out your death scythe and I-I begged you to stop but you...you..." My voice broke as a fresh wave of tears became stuck in my throat and prevented me from going any further.

"Oh, my dear lady..." he sighed in response, resting his cheek against the top of my head for a moment as he embraced me tightly before pulling away. I tried to keep my gaze away from him but he took my chin in his hand and turned my face towards his.

"Would you really do it? Kill me, I mean... Would you?" I inquired, raising my own hand to wipe the tears that stubbornly refused to stop. I pursed my lips slightly as he stood and placed his hands on his hips.

"No," he pouted, but he wouldn't meet my gaze. Obviously refusing to let me question him any further, he turned to leave, but I quickly lunged forward and managed to catch the edge of his crimson coat.

"W-wait," I stammered, sniffling slightly (Damn my patheticness...It was utterly mortifying...) and blinking away a few left-over tears. "Please, stay with me tonight. I-I'm afraid to go back to sleep alone." My breathing eased as he wordlessly shed his coat, placed his spectacles on my nightstand, and lay down on the spot next to me. "Thank you," I murmured, feeling truly grateful and leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips.

"Go to sleep, my lady."

"I will...as long as you stay with me tonight...I-I need you."

"I know, Grace."

* * *

The next morning, I was once more awoken under less than optimal circumstances; someone was shaking me roughly, hissing something incoherent in my ear. It took a few seconds for everything to register for me. My eyes flew open and I sat up quickly, only to see Ellaine standing over me, one hand hovering over my shoulder (it must've been her trying to awaken me) and the other brandishing a broomstick in a threatening manner while her eyes glowed with adrenaline.

"Whoa!" I gasped, snatching the heavy, wooden stick from her grasp and standing. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Planning to beat up on your mistress?"

"My lady!" her voice wavered as she bowed her head, face flaming. "What was I supposed to think, coming in and seeing you in bed with a strange man? (Dammit, I thought. I just now realized that Grell was still in his Shinigami form. That would be rather hard to explain to Ellaine...) I-I know it wasn't my place, but I was concerned for your safety. I sent Georgianna to find Mr. Sutcliff but she has yet to return. Please, forgive me."

"It's fine, Ellaine, really," I sighed, reaching up to give her shoulder a slight pat. "I'm actually honored that you'd be so concerned for me, but I need you to listen for a minute." She nodded, although I noticed her grey eyes kept flickering back to Grell. "Georgianna isn't going to find Mr. Sutcliff..." I paused and took a breath before continuing, albeit a tad bit reluctantly; after all, I hadn't a clue how Ellaine would react upon finding out that the Stanhope family butler was not only the man still in my bed, but inhuman as well.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Well, you see...that's Mr. Sutcliff...right there..." I indicated him and nervously averted my gaze from the young housemaid. "He's not human; he's a Shinigami, and you can't tell anyone, not even your sister, understand?" I could see the suprise on her face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had shown up. I shifted my weight anxiously, awaiting her response.

"My lady, you've been very kind to my sister and I. You rescued us from a life of scavenging on the streets, of poverty and peril. You've given us a place to live, food, work; for that, we're forever in your debt." I blushed slightly at the devotion in Ellaine's passionate monologue, but did not interrupt, as I was certain she hadn't reached the point yet. "As such, I would rather die than betray your secrets. Rest assured, I will not tell anyone about Mr. Sutcliff." The brunette's words were firm; I knew she meant them and now was certain she would carry any secrets I entrusted in her to the grave. Before I could respond, though, her attention was on Grell. "Quite the heavy sleeper, isn't he?" Feeling the tension break, I giggled slightly and nodded.

"Indeed," I confirmed, smiling at her. "I swear, I think he stops breathing at times..." Ellaine held her hand to her mouth, eyes twinkling merrily with laughter.

"Well, I'll leave you to get him sorted out, my lady," she said, heading for the door. She turned when she reached it and glanced back at me for permission to leave. I dismissed her with a quick jerk of my head before turning my attention to my lover.

Grinning, I slid under the covers and cuddled up to him, wanting to feel the warmth that radiated from him before an idea crossed my mind. Carefully, I rolled over so that I was straddling him and leant down so my lips were near his face.

"Oh, Grell~" I hummed in a sing-song voice, placing my lips against his jaw in a brief kiss. "It's time to wake up." I sighed slowly as he flinched but didn't respond. Deciding to keep it up, I moved my lips down to his neck and kissed it harder, feeling satisfied when I got a moan out of him. Pulling back, I was about to go further when he suddenly flipped the two of us over so that he was on top of me. I gasped loudly, my heart racing from the shock, as he crushed my lips with his own.

"What. The. HELL?!" I snapped when he finally backed off, his trademark grin on his face. "Are you TRYING to kill me? I just about died from a bloody heart attack!"

"I simply couldn't resist, my lady!" he mused, flopping down next to me. "It's your fault, you know."

"I was just trying to wake you up..." I muttered, feeling my face flame the color he loved so much. "I didn't think you'd do that..." Pouting a bit, he pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arms around my torso.

"Are you upset?" he inquired, gazing at me with those yellow-green eyes of his.

"No, not really..." I admitted, feeling my lips twist into a stupid smile. "I was only caught off guard...You'd think that living as a murderess for the past few months would make me more alert, wouldn't you?" He opened his mouth to respond but I placed my finger against his lips gently. "That was a rhetorical question. Anyway...I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday, but I've found my mother. She and her lover are living up in Manchester."

"Oh really?" he replied, pushing my hand away from his face. "Do you know what you're going to do?"

"Yes," I breathed, giving an almost unnoticeable nod of my head. "Listen carefully, Grell, for we're not done yet. We still have a long road ahead of us..."


	10. The Rocky Road to Manchester

**A/N Ooh, my loyal readers, we're approaching the closing of one story, and the opening of another! In other words, while this fanfic has but a few more chapters left until the end, it will lead into...A SEQUAL! Yes, you heard it, darlings, there will indeed be a sequal to this and I've already begun planning it. Anywho, special thanks in this chapter to . .X~ In response to one of your comments, of course Grace can improvise! Her butler is one hell of a...no, wait, a die-hard...that's wrong to...He's an actress to die for! I only own Philomena and short chapter is short. Next one will be longer. Enjoy! (Apologies for the long author's note...I'll shut up now...)**  
yes please do~Lady of Kalam

Chapter 9: The Rocky Road to Manchester

On the train ride to Manchester, I was the definition of nervous-wreck; My hands were sweating profusely to the poin where I had to remove my gloves, my legs were shaking uncontrollably, and my fingers clasped my small, white leather handbag with a death grip. I forced myself to breath slowly as I gazed out the window, not really taking in the scenary that whizzed past.

"Would you like some tea, my lady?" Grell inquired from his spot across from me. I shook my head and pursed my lips. Why was this trip making me so damn anxious? I had been living like this for almost a full four months! Ought I not be accustomed to it by now?

"Grell...I'm...worried," I admitted, struggling to control the evident stammer in my voice as I peered at him from under the sheer veil that was attatched to my traveling hat. "Do you think I can do it?" I mentally slapped myself when I realized how ridiculous I must've sounded; we'd gone through so much to finally get here, and I wasn't about to stop now. I simply had to grit my teeth, get it done, and move on to meet whatever my intended fate would be

"My lady, you've made it this far," I was a bit suprised by how stern he sounded, not at all like either his normal self or his butler act. "I am confident that you will be able to."

"You must think rather highly of me..." I murmured, returning my line of vision to the window. "I'm afraid that I'll choke..." I flinched as I heard him switch seats so he was next to me and felt his fingers entwine with my own.

Sighing, I swung my leg around so my knees were straddling him, effectively perching me on his lap, and leaned my forehead against his. "You'll stay with me...right? I need you more than you know..." I breathed, squeezing his hand tightly.

"Of course, Grace. I will be there for you, unto the end," he promised, moving his face to kiss my neck softly.

"Thank you," I whispered, pressing my cheek against his, at least, as best I could with those big, round spectacles of his butler persona. "Thank you."

We must've made quite a picture to anyone passing our compartment, a young noblewoman in the lap of her butler, but I didn't care. I was content, for the time being, and that was all that mattered to me.

* * *

Standing on the platform of the train station in Manchester with only my red butler, a small suitcase, and my handbag, and watching the locomotive pull away brought my nerves back full force. I held my purse tightly and remained frozen on the spot for a moment. Only the sound of Grell's voice snapped me out of my daze.

"My lady? Shall we...pay your mother a little visit now?" I nodded, picking my suitcase up off the ground and handing it to him to carry. When I started walking towards the road, he followed, albeit with a look of confusion on his face. "Haven't you hired a carriage?" I couldn't surpress a tiny smile.

"Ooh, questioning your mistress now, are you? I think that the fact that we now double as lovers is going to your head." I giggled as he gave me a trademark pout. "Anyway, we can't take a carriage because we can't have too many people knowing we're in town. It's only a couple of miles out towards Sale and it's sunny out, so we should be able to walk it." Although I did not say it out loud, I had a dire foreboding that this sunny day might be my last; a tiny feeling, deep in the recesses of my mind, that I would not see the light of day again.

* * *

Typically, halfway into what would be about a two hour walk, the beautiful summer sky, which had been displaying a spectacular sunset, became obscured by thick, gray-black clouds, and it began to rain. Not a drizzle, not a sprinkle, but a heavy, torrential downpour that had both myself and Grell soaked in mere moments.

"Damn it all..." I shivered as the lukewarm liquid continued to fall around us. A sudden thought caused me to spin around and snatch my suitcase away from Grell, who appeared slightly taken aback. "Hold on, I think I have...yes!" I smiled brightly as I rummaged through the case and extracted a plain umbrella. I handed my luggage back to him and opened the umbrella eagerly before beckoning for him to join me underneath it. I had to hold my arm, which quickly began to ache, up rather high to accommodate him, but it easily covered both of us. "I packed it to be safe," I explained, somewhat smugly, but Grell wasn't paying attention to me; in fact, his gaze was behind us. "What's the matter?"

"There's a carriage coming," he noted, turning back to glance down at me. "Perhaps they could take us the rest of the way?" I pursed my lips, considering it.

"I did bring some money...I could pay them off, tell them to forget they saw us...if they stop that is," I replied, thinking out loud. "Very well. Let's have them bring us to the manor."

* * *

"Now, listen closely, mister," my voice was firm, threatening almost, as I stared down the owner of the carriage. He had most graciously allowed us to clamber aboard and agreed to take us the rest of the way to my mother's home. Although the muddy road impeded our travel, it still took less time than it would have if we continued walking. "You never saw us, understand?"

"Just what the hell are you playing at, girl?" he snapped, giving me the evil eye, only to stop as I poured a handful of coins into his palm. "Right, never saw you, Miss."

"That's what I thought you'd say," I mused as I leapt down from the carriage, landing next to Grell; the man had dropped us off at the front gates of the small manor.

"I'll be off then," he gave the two of us a stiff nod before pulling away with haste. Turning away from the road, I fixed my attention to the gate, only to notice Grell on the other side of it, giving me a wide grin.

"How'd you..." I stopped when I realized he must've jumped it. "Nevermind..." Rolling my eyes, I squeezed myself between the bars and led the way up to the elegant front door.

"I suppose we should knock, my lady," I stumbled forward as he nudged me towards it. I shot him a glare before taking the heavy knocker in my hand and pounding it against the wooden door. My heart was fluttering in my chest by the time it opened, revealing none other than...HER.


	11. The Nottingham Manor

**A/N So, in this chapter, we finally get to meet Grace's mum and her lover~ Yup, yup, yup, we do! I shall also pile heaps upon heaps of fluff on Grell-chan and Grace because after this chapter...there shalt be angst. Much angst. I just wanna say I'm so lucky to have such awesome readers. Thanks so much to everyone who's taken the time to check out my story, and I hope y'all come back for the sequal! I have a feeling I no longer own Philomena (I think Grell-san does by now...)**

Chapter 10: The Nottingham Manor  
"Yes? May I help you?" my mother's voice was not what I had expected after eleven years; I had always heard it in my mind as cold, hard, lacking any emotion, but now, I could make out the concern and genuine interest in her tone as she took in Grell and my's disheveled appearances.

"Oh, er, in fact, you can," I roused myself hurriedly and went into my prepared explaination and appeal for lodging. "I am Lady Cosette Lanesborough, and this is my butler, Grell Sutcliff. As you may have already guessed, we were traveling before we were caught in this ghastly weather. May we please stay the night in your manor? I would not ask, but we have quite a way back to Manchester."

I had actually only come up with my nom de plume, so to speak, on the train ride up from London. I had been very tempted to go as Blair Silverstone, which was the pseudonym my mother had bestowed upon me, but I figured that would only cause suspicion. I gave her my most innocent smile, although I was burning inside, and mentally relaxed when she returned my grin and stepped aside to allow us in.

"Come in, come in!" she was saying merrily, gesturing for us to enter. "I could never turn someone away in this horrid rain. Goodness, if the two of you tried to walk all the way out to Manchester in this, you'd catch your death of cold!" I listened to her ramble as we stepped inside the warm foyer, my mind still racing with plans.

And so it would begin.

* * *

My mother led us to the drawing room, where her lover, now husband, James Nottingham, was being served tea by an elderly butler.

"Who's this, Samantha?" he inquired, raising a pale brown eyebrow at me. "I didn't realize we would have guests tonight."

"This is Lady Cosette Lanesborough and her butler," my mother explained, gesturing to each of us in turn. "They were walking to Manchester when they stumbled upon our humble abode and I've offered them lodging for the night. Is that alright?"

"By all means," Mr. Nottingham responded, standing and offering his armchair by the fire to me. I thanked him quickly and settled into the soft fabric while Grell moved to stand behind me. Mr. Nottingham and my mother sat side-by-side on the ornate loveseat, facing me with looks of interest on their faces.

"Oh, darling, she must think we're terribly rude!" my mother mused after a brief moment of silence. "We are Mr. and Mrs. James Nottingham."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," I responded, giving them a smile. "And I must thank you for your great kindness once more."

"Think nothing of it, Lady Lanesborough," Mr. Nottingham said good-naturedly, waving his hand in a dismissive manner; I noticed that his other was wrapped around my mother's shoulders and it made me clench my fists in fury.

"Please, call me Cosette," I insisted, forcing my voice to be sunny and cheerful. "There's no need to be so formal with me."

"Cosette, then," Mr. Nottingham nodded before forging on. "Might we ask what brings a noblewoman such as yourself all the way up to Manchester?"

"I was visiting a friend out in Sale, you see," I explained, taking a sip of the tea their butler had prepared. "Our carriage could not continue the journey back to Manchester, so we decided to try and walk. Obviously, we were rather lucky to come across your manor, or we would still be outside, battling the elements."

"Indeed!" my mother exclaimed, holding a hand to her chest. "Pardon my saying so, but that was rather foolish of you to think you could walk all the way from Sale to Manchester, and in the rain at that."

"I know, I know, but I have learned my leason," I lowered my head, looking reminiscent of a scolded schoolgirl.

"Well, it seems you've had quite a day," Mr. Nottingham let out a deep chuckle as he swirled his tea around in his cup.

"Yes, quite," I agreed, although I felt like letting loose a snappy retort. "So, you two seem to be a rather happy couple, if you don't mind my saying so. Are you newlyweds?" Both of them laughed before answering my inquiry (despite the fact I already knew the answer).

"We've been married for almost nine years," my mother answered, gazing fondly at Mr. Nottingham. "We grew close after the...the..." she let out a sob and covered her face in her hands, while her husband held her to him tightly. "My apologies...it is still painful to speak about." I nodded, hoping to appear understanding, but feeling a might bit impatient. "James and I grew close after the tragic death of my first husband, my dear Edmund..." she wiped at her eyes dramatically, but I noticed one crucial fact; they were bone-dry.

"How horrible!" I gasped, struggling slightly to be seen as sympathetic. "You must've been devastated!"

"I was, very much so," my mother agreed, gulping huge amounts of air as she 'regained herself.' "I still see him sometimes, after those despicable men robbed him of his life, and me of a loving husband." I had to hand it to her; she was a talented actress, but I wasn't buying her performance. "I could not go on mourning my loss (her loss?!) forever, though. Edmund would want me to be happy, and I am. I have a new life, a new husband, and a beautiful daughter." Here, she indicated a large portrait above the fireplace of a sweet-faced little girl, the same one from the photograph Mrs. Pershing had shown me.

"Isn't she just the cutest thing," I said, gazing at the image with mock-interest. "What's her name?"

"Violet Anne," Mr. Nottingham chimed in, smiling proudly at the picture. "She's away at school for now, but she should be home by August."

"I see...you must miss her something awful," I noted, turning my attention back to the two before me.

"It's difficult, yes, but it's all for the best," Mr. Nottingham responded as my mother gave an affirmative nod in agreement. He was about to speak more, I could tell, when the clock on the wall began to strike nine.

"Goodness, would you look at the time. Dear, I'm sure Miss Cosette would like to retire for the night; she's had a long day, after all. Have Charles show her to the guest quarters," my mother said, glancing over at Mr. Nottingham, who, in turn, beckoned the elderly man from his place in the corner.

"Miss Cosette, Charles will take you to the guest quarters for the night. We sincerely hope they will be to your liking," he explained as I placed my drained teacup down on the table and stood.

"I'm sure they will, sir. Thank you again for your generosity towards myself and my butler."

* * *

What had angered me the most about my conversation with my mother and James Nottingham was the fact that my mother had the audacity to pretend to grieve for her first husband; not only that, she didn't even acknowledge that she had had another daughter before Violet. I was merely the castaway, however, the product of an arranged marriage to a man whom she did not love, whereas Violet was the daughter she had wanted all along. I was finally going to avenge my father's heartless murder, though. The only obstacle was that it scared the hell out of me to think about it.

The guest quarters that the Nottinghams had provided me with were lavish, luxurious, but I could not help feeling rather anxious, all alone as I was. What I wanted most was for Grell to be by my side, for I felt it was the moment I would need him the most tonight. I was about to climb out of the warm bed, where I had been huddled, fully-dressed, when I heard a knock on the door. I scrambled over and opened it slowly to reveal none other than Grell, in all his crimson glory.

"I was about to go looking for you," I said, stepping back to allow him entry.

"I had a feeling you needed something," he replied, shutting the door firmly behind him. "The question is, however, what exactly do you need?"

"You..."

* * *

The clock in the room was announcing the time; it was one in the morning. I was so very exhausted, but I could not fall asleep, not even with Grell lying beside me. We had made love, I admit it, but our amorous activity did little to ease my troubled mind.

Sighing, I turned my head to the left, towards the man next to me, only to notice his eyes were shut. I smiled softly, despite my worries, and placed my hand against his cheek. His skin was soft and comfortingly warm, I noted as I brushed my fingers lightly against him. I had never really had cause to be so close to him until recently, and the last few times we were like this, my mind was else where; now, I could clearly see and soak in details I had never noticed before, like the delicate arch of his nose, how smooth his thin lips felt, the shadow-y, smokey look his false eyelashes gave him. As I studied him, I realized just how attactive he really was, in a feminine sort of way.

I let my breath out wistfully and retracted my hand as his eyelids fluttered open, revealing stunning yellow-green eyes still hazy with lust. I blushed, a bit embarrassed that he had caught me, only to gasp quietly as he merely tugged me closer to him, putting my face in the crook of his neck.

"Grell?" I whispered, winding my arms around his torso in a tight embrace. "May I tell you something?"

"Yes," he responded, wrapping his fingers around one of my hands. I hesitated, suddenly distracted. He was almost always wearing gloves, so I had never noticed that his nails were painted a bright red. They were so flawless without a single smear or chip. Huh. I'd have to have him do mine once we got out of this because I was utterly hopeless when it came to those sort of things...I was so memorized that he had to give me a little shake to regain my attention. "Grace, I said yes."

"Oh, right," I nodded slightly, blinking a bit. "Grell, I...I simply wanted to say...I love you. I really do. I haven't told you so before in a meaningful manner, so I am now. I love you."

"I love you as well, Grace..." he replied after a moment, making me smile.

"I'm going to need that...because I believe it's time..."


	12. A Grand Finale

**A/N And so, my dears, we've reached the finale of our lovely performance. I'm sorry it took so long to upload this. I kept revising it, and to be honest...I'm still not entirely pleased with it. I hope that you all find it satisfactory though! Remember, there will be an epilogue after this chapter to set up the sequal. On a side note, I was listening to Shinku while writing this. For those of you who don't know, it's one of Grell's character songs. Jun Fukuyama-san has such a sexy voice *drools*** god pond, that's disgusting (Jun** Fukuyama's Grell is sexy, but Daniel Fredrick's is cute~) Ah, anyway, listening to that somehow made this chapter sadder, especially because I know the English translation of the song. I don't own anyone but Philomena! Enjoy, DEATH~**

Chapter 11: A Grand Finale  
They were both fast asleep, I noted as I peered through the keyhole into their room. The only things I could make out were the two outlines on the bed, covered in blankets and rising and falling in sync; I would not get a more perfect opportunity, what with them as vulnerable as they were at that moment.

Silent as a spectre, I gave the doorknob an experimental twist; it was locked from the inside. Blowing my choppy fringe out of my face, I wiped my sweaty hands on the skirt of my dress before digging around in my petite, white handbag for a moment. My fingers curled around what I had searched for; a hairpin. I nervously inserted the thin object into the keyhole and placed my ear against the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Grell watching me with an amused expression on his face. It was all I could do not to turn around and punch him...I may have loved him, but that didn't mean he didn't still irritate the hell out of me.

I was two seconds away from breaking the knob in frustration when I heard a satisfying click. "Got it," I murmured, rising from my spot crouched on the ground by the door. I exchanged a smile with Grell, who was carrying his death scythe over his shoulder, and slowly opened the door, so as not to make it creak; the last thing we needed was for a servant to be alerted, after all, though it seemed they only had their elderly butler.

I approached the bed, somewhat anxious and apprehensive, and noticed an important fact; my mother and Mr. Nottingham were wrapped so closely together, I would not be able to kill one without waking the other. I shifted my weight from side to side and glanced back at Grell as I went over my limited options. There was no doubt I wanted my mother out of the way first, but if I woke James up, there was a chance he could overpower me before I could eradicate him and end up killing me before Grell would have a chance to intervene. On the other hand, I also wanted my mother to know just who I was before she died...In that second, I made my decision.

I leapt onto the bed, pulling a long knife from up my sleeve and plunged it straight into James Nottingham's heart; he didn't stir but for a quick convulse, but his blood stained everything in sight; my front, the bed, and my mother. The sudden disturbance caused my mother to awaken, blinking her eyes open and shifting slightly. She didn't notice the gore around her at first, but her gaze came to rest on me, as I was still straddling her husband's body. Her mouth opened in a questioning way, but it quickly turned to a cry of horror as she took in the scene around her.

Not wanting to give her a chance to scream, I moved my place so that I was on top of her, placed my hand over her mouth, and held the dagger threateningly against her throat. She squirmed, thrashed, and writhed, trying to break free, but I pressed the blade into her skin, drawing beads of blood where they met.

"It's been a while, Mother," I breathed mockingly, feeling a cruel smirk cross my face at the confused look that passed through her eyes, and then...recognition. "Yes, it is I, your first daughter, Philomena Stanhope, or would you prefer...Blair Silverstone?" Was it me, or was there a twinge of regret in her fearful gaze? No...I must've imagined it...

"I know what you did, Mother. I know you had Daddy killed so you could be with your lover. I know you left me to rot in that Hell. You said you're happy now, but do you really deserve that?" I paused as I felt a wetness on the hand that covered her mouth; she knew what I planned to do.

"It's hardly fair to Daddy, don't you think? You've gone on with your life for eleven years without a care in the world, but not anymore. Now, I will avenge the murder of Earl Edmund Stanhope, for I am his devoted, loving daughter, Philomena!" And with those last words, I swiftly put an end to my mother's existence. With a fury I had never felt before, I brought the dagger down, full-force into her heart. Ignoring the warm, red liquid that splattered my cheeks, soaked my dress, I pulled back and struck again and again until my arms grew too wary to continue.

Panting and wiping blood away from my face, I jumped as I heard a voice from the doorway; it wasn't Grell.

"Master! Mistress!" the voice wavered, full of sorrow and despair, no doubt, and I turned, and saw Charles, the elderly butler to my mother and Mr. Nottingham. It did not scare me that he had a pistol in his hand, trained on my heart, or even that he had caught me at the scene of the crime, but it did frighten me that Grell was nowhere to be seen. I gulped and slid off the bed with my hands up, both shaking, while the knife clattered to the floor.

"They killed my father," I told Charles, feeling tears prick at my eyes; I probably wouldn't gain any sympathy, however, as I was covered in crimson. I pushed my lower lip out as Charles beckoned me forward, the gun still pointed at me.

"But you killed them, miss," Charles responded, his hands twitching, finger inching towards the trigger before retracting. "If they did what you say, what makes you any better than them?"

"I had no choice; I had to avenge my father. You don't know what I've had to endure because of those bastards and their damn murder-for-hire plot! You wouldn't understand! Only G-" A sudden thought crossed my mind, stopping my voice mid-word; Grell had left me...perhaps he had lied? Lying all along, saying he understood what I was doing, when really...For the first time in weeks, the Earl's words replayed in my mind. What if I had only been a toy to him...and he was finished with me now? I couldn't bear to think that he didn't really love me; it made my heart ache uncontrollably.

Why did I care if I lived or died, now? If I lived, I would only be imprisoned, for the rest of my life at that, and if that was all I had to look forward to, I didn't want to be alive. Even if I didn't spend my life in prison, I would certainly be executed, and if I was to die, I would do so on my own terms. I had gained my revenge; I was done. Besides, I had no reason to live if my love had not been reciprocated the entire time. I would never love anyone like I had loved him...

I quickly lunged a step forward, surprising Charles immensely. I heard the pistol go off, felt a sharp pain in my chest. I collapsed on the floor and looked down. Red. Everywhere I looked there was red. Wheezing with the effort it took to breathe and my vision failing, I tried looking for my beloved red butler one last time. In the sea of scarlet, I could not make him out before everything went black.


	13. Epilogue(Is that how you spell it?)

**A/N And so, as one journey ends, another begins. Do keep an eye out for the sequel to this fic. The title: His Mistress, Vengeful. I'm already almost finished with the first chapter, so hopefully, I can have Lady of Kalam put it up within a week or so (then, I swear, I'll consider leaving her account alone...but no promises **damn gurl about time ).** I hope the epilogue doesn't make y'all cry too much! By the way, I just watched Ciel in Wonderland a few days ago. Grell as the Cheshire Cat was bloody brilliant. His laugh will forever troll me at night** oh shut up pond~** Enjoy, my dears!**

Epilogue:  
She was gone now, his Lady Grace, his partner-in-crime, his...lover. Grell Sutcliff had not wanted to leave Philomena, but he had had no choice; she was on the List. He had known about her death for a couple of days now; in fact, he'd been dreading it. It was awful to have to go on, pretending as if nothing was wrong, when all along...he knew his mistress would not make it through the night.

The red Shinigami waited until the Nottingham butler scurried out of the blood-splattered room, probably to call the Yard or something, he thought grimly, before he entered to collect the souls of the deceased. The first he approached was the man. As always, Grell cut into him with his death scythe, releasing the man's Cinematic Record.

"James Nottingham," he noted, voice devoid of emotion for once. "Born on the 2nd of March, 1854. Died on the 7th of July, 1899 due to excessive hemorrhaging. Remaks, none." He collected Mr. Nottingham's soul with no problem and turned to Grace's mother. "Samantha Nottingham. Born on the 12th of November, 1860. Died on the 7th of July, 1899, idem. Remarks, none." Steeling his nerves, he willed himself to turn to Grace's body.

Even in death, the young woman was still quite beautiful; her reddish-blonde hair was sticky with blood, as were her face and dress, but it suited her. Red suited her. Grace had once told him she wasn't terribly fond of the hue, but he never understood why. It looked fabulous on her, and the carmine that stained her made her all the more alluring...like a poisonous flower, almost.

Her arms were sprawled at odd angles, for she had fallen to the ground awkwardly upon being shot, so Grell bent to arrange them. When he was finished her hands were folded just underneath the messy wound to her chest, making her look at peace with the world; if one ignored the blood that coated her, she could've been sleeping.

His yellow-green eyes came to rest on the delicate, gold locket that was around her pale throat. Curious, he clicked it open to reveal a tiny image of himself, in that dreadful disguise of his, with a smiling Grace at his side. When had she ever had a photograph taken of them? The day flooded back to him after a second of intense thought. In between all the planning for the finale of their performance, Grace had insisted the two of them take a moment for a lover's portrait.

"That way, if you ditch me after we're done, I won't ever forget you!" she'd teased on the carriage ride to the studio. Of course, he hadn't thought she would've gotten it back so soon...Carefully, he undid the clasp that hooked at the back of her neck and stuffed the necklace into one of the deep pockets of his beloved scarlet coat. The least he could do was keep something to remind himself of his Lady...

The last thing he did before rising to collect her soul was gently slide her eyelids shut so her sightless, cloudy blue eyes were hidden. It completed her illusion of slumber.

Standing over Grace's corpse was just like when he stood over Madam's body, but with one subtle difference; Grace had not died at his hand, like Angelina had; however; he had allowed her to be killed, which was practically as bad. Maybe it was even worse, because he'd had knowledge of what was to come beforehand. He couldn't help but wish he had not left her that way he had. He could've protected her from that fatal bullet. The Board would've been furious that he'd let someone so unimportant, so minor, on the To-Die list live, but...perhaps it all would've been worth it? Shaking the regrets and the 'what-ifs' from his mind, he set to work. He could not change what had happened, after all. Grace was dead, and her soul needed to be collected.

"Philomena Stanhope. Born on the 26th of June, 1881. Died on the 7th of July, 1899 due to a-" The Cinematic Record stopped abruptly. "What the hell?" he murmured to himself, glancing back down at Grace. Her soul was not there for the taking. That wasn't possible unless...unless...

Fearing he was correct, Grell Sutcliff fled the Nottingham Manor.

In the mean time, Grace's eyes fluttered opened, and for one brief moment, the sky blue flickered blazing red.


End file.
